Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Refusing to be intimidated, I replied calmly, “I don’t want you reading it first because it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“I’m your father.”
“Only in the biological sense.”
“What the hell does that mean, you disrespectful little shit?”
I refused to flinch as he raised his voice. I’d learned long ago that the calmer I was during an argument, the more it pissed him off, and I was just spiteful enough to enjoy it. “I’m grateful for the opportunities the money you worked hard to make afforded us, but let’s not pretend that you had any hand in raising me. Beyond your controlling interest in my education, you weren’t there to raise me as other fathers are there to raise their sons. I’m not complaining.” That was a lie. Mom was there for us emotionally and always had time for us in the evenings, but she worked extremely hard on her business too, so we had a lot of babysitters when we were kids. Miguel and I saw more of those babysitters than we ever saw of our father. “I’m just stating a fact. You and I are not close. Writing this book is very personal to me, and you are the last person I would think to come to about it.”
“Always disrespecting me. Since you were a boy. Talking back, disagreeing with me, asking questions you should not be asking.” He spat out each of these as if they were a crime and strode around his desk to stand behind it. “You were always ungrateful. Why couldn’t you be more like Miguel?”
I lowered my gaze so he wouldn’t see me flinch.
Why can’t you be more like Miguel?
I’d joked to my brother once that I was going to get the question tattooed on my body because our father asked it so many times. The joke covered up the trauma the question inflicted on me.
Miguel was the charmer of the two of us. He always knew what to say to get around our father. Miguel was the one who convinced him to allow me to attend the academy.
“For just a moment, I was proud to be your father. To say my son was an astronaut. But, like always, you cannot stick to something once you commit. You even let Darcy Hawthorne slip through your fingers, and now she’s marrying a fucking French artist, of all things. You should have proposed to that girl before you went up into space. I might have forgiven this current fuckup if you’d made a useful connection with the Hawthornes. You know I am interested in investing in the hotel business, but no, you had to screw that up too.”
Hurt seized me. But I’d never let him see. Instead I gave a huff of amusement. “We’re in the twenty-first century now. Maybe you should join us there.”
“You impudent little fuck,” he said in quiet fury. “Get out of my office. And don’t bother coming back until you have your life together.”
Shaking my head, knowing that wasn’t the end of it because he was too much of a controlling bastard to let it go, I turned and reached for the door. I glanced back at him. “You’ll find out soon enough, but I’m putting the Midtown East apartment up for rent and taking something more affordable elsewhere.”
He muttered a series of curse words, glaring at me. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you had a respectable job.”
I lifted my chin, unsurprised by his answer, and yanked open his office door. The pulse in my neck throbbed hard and fast as I marched out of there, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Unspent exasperation burned hot in my blood, along with dejection and disappointment. The conversation between me and my father never changed. I knew that going in. And yet, I hadn’t quite figured out a way to stop caring.
I needed a distraction.
As if on cue, my cell buzzed inside my jacket pocket as I stepped outside my father’s office building. When I pulled it out, I found a few texts from Hallie.
Theme options for your party:
Red, white, and blue (sounds cheesy, but I can make it classy)
Hampton beach style
Space theme but for adults (not “adults” as in kinky but as in maturity)
Chuckling at the last one, I texted back:
I don’t know enough about any of this to understand these themes. I’m still in the city. Can we meet over dinner tonight so we can discuss?
Keeping my phone in hand, I walked toward the subway at Bowling Green. Obviously dinner was just an excuse to see Hallie again. Our lunch a few days ago had been the best afternoon I’d had in a long time. The conversation between us flowed easily. I couldn’t stop staring into her gorgeous blue eyes, and every time she smiled I wanted to kiss her.